


I Can’t Live If Living Is Without You

by LegoTea



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, Ambiguous pregnancy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breeding, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Hurt Peter Quill, Hurt/Comfort, Peter gets sexually assaulted from someone else, Protective Gamora (Marvel), Romance, Violence, and gamora saves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegoTea/pseuds/LegoTea
Summary: “Little green men from Mars!” he said as soon as he saw a picture of them. “I knew it. Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find out they’re real.”“You’d wish they weren’t real,” Gamora said during their briefing, which was really just her relaying the Nova Corps’ offer to the other Guardians as they sat half awake around the planning table. “They abduct people from various planets and put them through the worst kinds of torture. There’s not much known about them, because they don’t tend to let their captives go.”“Sure they do,” Peter said. “Tons of people on Earth would talk about them.”“That’s....” Gamora said, shocked. “Not what the Nova Corps said.”(Gamora and Peter wake up to find themselves captured by a cruel species. Gamora quickly realizes she needs to have sex with Peter, or he will die.)





	I Can’t Live If Living Is Without You

“Woah.... Where am I?”

Gamora opens her eyes at the sound of Peter’s voice, and sits up. 

She goes on high alert in an instant, jumping to her feet and turning in a circle, scanning her surroundings.

Peter’s in her periphery vision, moaning as he groggily wakes on the metallic cot Gamora had leapt off of. He’s rubbing his forehead, and aside from a couple bruises on his body, he looks all right, though Gamora instantly notices he doesn’t have his blasters, nor his mask chip.

Gamora takes stock of their surroundings. Aside from the cot, there’s barely anything else around them. The cot itself is simplistic and on top of it is a thick, sturdy pad, a sad mockery of a mattress.

What troubles Gamora deeply are the opaque walls, smooth gray that stretch around them on all four walls. She and Peter are trapped inside a tiny room, with no weapons, and no way out. 

Gamora’s eyes catch on a panel in one of the walls. It’s a square, translucent material and its color does not match the rest of the walls.

Gamora immediately slams her hand on it, and Peter moans, “G’mora?” 

She ignores him, slamming her hand on the panel again. 

A loud, beeping noise suddenly fills the room, and Gamora immediately puts her hands over her ears. Due to her heightened sense of hearing, the beeping sounds like someone put a crude alarm right next to her eardrms. 

Then, Peter screams.

Gamora whirls away from the panel to see Peter clutching at his head.

“Oh my god,” Gamora whispers.

She runs over to him, jumping up onto the cot next to him in one movement as she moves Peter’s head down. He screams even louder, and Gamora stops breathing for a long moment.

Her enhanced respiratory system kicks in, making her draw breath automatically, and she growls in frustration.

At the back of Peter’s neck, between his head and his shoulders, is a blinking red buttonlike object. It’s stitched into his skin, a precise job.

Gamora lets out a shuddering sob.

And then, her eyes grow wide when their mission comes crashing back into her memory. 

 

They were scouting a large ship of the Tu'Vgane, a horrid species which Peter had, surprisingly, recognized.

“Little green men from Mars!” he said as soon as he saw a picture of them. “I knew it. Can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find out they’re real.”

“You’d wish they weren’t real,” Gamora said during their briefing, which was really just her relaying the Nova Corps’ offer to the other Guardians as they sat half awake around the planning table. “They abduct people from various planets and put them through the worst kinds of torture. There’s not much known about them, because they don’t tend to let their captives go.”

“Sure they do,” Peter said. “Tons of people on Earth would talk about them.”

“That’s....” Gamora said, shocked. “Not what the Nova Corps said.”

“Guess these dickheads got a hard on for humies,” Rocket said, leaning back in his chair, unconcerned with his language even though Groot was perched on his shoulder. “Can’t imagine why.”

“What have the survivors said?” Gamora asked Peter.

He shrugged. “Dunno. All’s I heard was they were probed in their.... You know.”

“That’s similar to the information the Nova Corps has managed to divulge from other races,” Gamora said solemnly. “We need to take them very seriously. Once they catch you, they will either run experiments on you to test your biology.... Or they put you through their breeding program.”

“Quill’s dream come true,” Rocket said, snickering, as Peter rolled his eyes.

“Ok, so we got one of their cargo ships swinging by us, and Nova Corps wants us to try putting a homing signal on them?” Peter said. “Piece ’a cake.”

Gamora still doesn’t know what that meant, but whatever it did, she knows that Peter was horribly wrong.

 

She remembers being caught while she and Peter had been split up. Peter wanted to get a wider scope of the facility, to see if there were humans on board they could save. Gamora chased after him, running away from Rocket and the others, and.... 

Gamora stares at the beeping red button embedded into the back of Peter’s neck, as the realization of their situation dawns on her.

Just then, a robotic voice fills the room, uttering just two words:

“Fifteen minutes.”

Gamora glances around the mattress as Peter lets out another scream, strangled this time. She runs her hand over the mattress, checking to see if there are any sharp edges inside it.

She takes stock of her outfit. She and Peter had been stripped of their clothes and fitted into soft, thin shirts and pants. Growling in frustration, Gamora leaps off the cot again, taking a flying kick at the panel set up at the wall. Even with her flexibility, the panel is a bit too high for her to gain enough momentum to kick up at it with much force.

“Fourteen minutes.” 

Gamora’s panting, her hair hanging in her face, adrenaline running high through her veins.

She turns back to look at Peter, still seated and folded over on the cot, muffling his pained screams with his forearm.

Gamora sucks in a deep breath, then walks over to him. 

She’s never seen Peter this.... Broken before. This helpless. She wants more than anything to break them out of this prison so Peter can go back to his silly jokes and bravado, and begging her to dance with him. She wants to go back to their chaste kisses on the Quadrant and spending their night watches curled up together on his chair in their new ship, Gamora seated on Peter’s lap as he strokes her hair and they look out at the stars. 

She wants more than anything for this to not be their first time together.... But she knows that is not their reality.

Gamora comes to a stop right in front of Peter.

She takes in another deep breath.

And then she undresses herself as he sits on the cot, oblivious to her as she steps out of the cotton pants, completely bare.

“Twelve minutes.”

“Peter,” she says urgently, “Peter please, look at me.”

When he looks up to face her, he gasps. His eyes are red rimmed and tears stream down his cheeks. His reaction would almost be comical, if they weren’t in such a dire situation.

“G’mora....” He mumbles, wiping his eyes with his other arm. His pain seems to have subsided, and the beeping sound wanes. “You.... What’re you....”

“I’m sorry, but we have to....” Gamora almost can’t bring herself to say it, but she pushes on anyway when the robotic voice counts down another minute. “Be together.”

“Wha....?”

She thinks about the phrase Peter has used many times, ‘ripping off the Band Aid’ although when Gamora fantasized about their first time together, she didn’t quite picture it like this. “We have to sleep together. If we don’t, the bomb in your neck will be activated, and you will die.”

She reaches out to start pulling down his pants, and he cries out, “W-wait!”

Gamora freezes, but the disembodied voice counts down another minute. “Do you hear that? We don’t have any time,” she insists, a desperate growl in her throat.

Peter still looks like he’s just now processing what she’s saying, but Gamora doesn’t have time for his stammering and protests. 

“I wanted.... This should’ve been different.... I had plans, dammit,” he mumbles, and Gamora looks at him, her insistent gaze softening.

“I know,” she says. “And we can do this our way. But this time, we need to....”

“Nine minutes.”

Gamora reaches out and begins tugging down his pants. Peter follows along, sniffling as he lifts his hips so she can roll down his pants.

Gamora doesn’t know whether to be exasperated or pleased that he’s already erect when his pants fall to the floor. At least that would free up some time for them. 

Peter still looks hesitant, like he’s stuck, so Gamora lifts herself up onto the cot and straddles Peter. 

“Ignore it,” she tells him, as he gasps and starts to babble while the voice ticks off another minute. “Focus on me.”

He glances around the room wildly, searching for the voice, and Gamora takes his chin in her hand, directing him to look at her.

“You have to come inside of me within eight minutes, Peter. Please.”

Peter gazes back at her, lust and panic formulating on his face, and Gamora reaches forward to kiss him, deep and hard.

And she enjoys it.

Her body responds to his almost immediately. With his cock pressing up against her pubic bone, as she presses herself against him, she’s already wet.

She doesn’t know if it’s even possible for Peter to impregnate her. But she doesn’t care. All that matters is keeping Peter alive.

She lifts up her hips and, with seven minutes to go, slides down on his cock as he groans.

Gamora’s had sex before. She knows how this works. With Peter, though, even in a life or death situation, she feels…. Just more, as she rides him, than all of her past experiences combined. Granted, she hasn’t slept with many others before, but she can tell the difference. She kisses Peter as she fucks him, making it fast and hard so he can come inside her, and after a minute of her riding him, he tentatively puts his hands on her hips, then holds onto her as she keeps going.

“Yeah,” she whispers, breaking away from his lips as she slides her arms around his back. “Like that.”

He moans at the sound of her voice, sultry and encouraging, and Gamora quickens her pace as the voice counts down another minute. 

The few times Gamora has done this, she didn’t talk. She didn’t feel the need to, before. But now, it’s almost like she’s a different person. There’s a part of her that wonders if she would be acting like this even if Peter’s life wasn’t in danger, but she quickly ignores that line of thinking and presses her lips against Peter’s ear.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she admits to him as she continues fucking him on the cot, in quick, long strokes, moving her hips because Peter’s life depends on it. “I think I’ve always wanted you.”

He’s panting, letting out little gasps as she rides him, and she can hear tears in his inhalations. She doesn’t know if it’s because he’s wanted this too, or if it’s because he’s still upset they couldn’t be together under better circumstances. 

It’s probably both.

She feels wetness against her cheek as she moans into Peter’s ear.

“Wanted to do this right....” He mumbles, his breathing ragged as she slides up and down his cock with increased forced. “But.... fuck, baby.... ’m glad you want this too.”

“I do,” she pants next to his ear. “I only want you, I....”

“Two minutes,” the robotic voice announces, and Gamora lets out a sob as she quickens into a breakneck speed.

“Please, Peter. Please, come inside me,” she begs him, and then, before she can stop it, a wave of euphoria washes over her, and she screams uncontrollably, crying up toward the ceiling.

Her vision blurs, she shuts her eyes as she keeps riding Peter, clutching onto his back, her nails sliding against his shirt, soaked with sweat. 

“One minute,” the voice calls out.

“PETER, PLEASE!” she begs, then kisses him with so much vigor, she can’t sense where her own lips end and his begin.

His hands squeeze down on her hips as he kisses her back. Gamora rides his cock at a gallop, feeling his heart racing as he lowers his hands down to her ass, and grips onto her with so much force, he lifts his hips as he moves his, thrusting up into her.

And then, he moans against her lips, his hips stuttering, and he fills her completely as she sobs out of sheer relief.

Gamora loses track of how much time they’re fused together like that, but they must have satisfied their captors, because Peter’s head remains intact.

“Thank you,” she murmurs to Peter as she comes down, rubbing his back comfortingly. He slides his hands up from her backside, wrapping his arms around her back as they embrace each other, sated and relieved all at once.

The next several minutes are a haze, and even though they’ve just been seconds away from Peter’s death, Gamora feels completely at peace. 

Then, Gamora hears a metallic, whirring sound from the panel. 

It happens so quickly, and her senses are dulled from the best orgasm she’s ever had, that it takes her longer to react.

The entire wall with the panel slides up into the ceiling, and two robots slide into the room, waving flexible tendrils.

Gamora disengages from Peter, jumping off the cot into a crouched defensive posture between Peter and the robots, but they’re too quick for her.

One of the robots elongates its tendrils to her ankles and wrists, slamming her up  against the wall opposite the bed.

“Peter!” she cries out, struggling against her bonds as she watches, horrified, while the other robot elongates its tendrils and wraps them around Peter’s wrists, enveloping them like cuffs before he can run.

Then that robot zooms out of the room, forcing Peter to get off the cot and follow the machine.

“No! Gamora!” he cries out, trying to twist around to look back at her, his eyes wide as he digs his heels into the smooth white flooring, to no avail.

Gamora lets out a frustrated scream as Peter struggles to stay put, but he slides against the floor. 

“Gamora!” he calls out to her again, and she throws her entire body into freeing herself from the tendrils.

Peter attempts to stop the robot when he gets to the door, holding his feet spread out, pressing his toes against either wall in the doorway. 

But there’s not enough friction for him, so he stumbled and falls to the ground. 

Gamora watches in horror as he cries out in pain.... then gets suddenly dragged out of her sight. 

Gamora lets out an almighty scream, and puts every ounce of strength she can muster into freeing herself. 

Then, after a few minutes, the tendrils bend under her strength, and she swings her wrists forward with so much force it sends her robot captor flying up against the far wall.

It crashes against the smooth material, then lands in a heap on the cot.

Gamora only pauses to pick up her clothes, slipping into them as she races out the room.

“PETER!” she cries as she slides out into the hallway.

It’s empty.

She whirls around, taking stock of the long, narrow hallway she’s in. There are other panels set into the wall, and she can hear various ‘breeding experiments’ taking place all around her.

The robot took Peter away for only one reason.

Gamora sprints off in the direction where she saw Peter being dragged away.

She runs down the long, narrow corridor, honing her hearing on the faint voices she can discern through each room.

A few more of the robots get in her way. She makes short work of them. 

She pauses for a minute to rip out one of the robot’s tendrils. It flails around helplessly, but it’s still working, and she uses it on the next set of robots that end up chasing her down the hall.

Her one-track mind starts to shift to panic as she keeps running, with no sign of Peter around her. What if she never finds him? 

Gamora lets out a choked sob, and claps her hand over her mouth.

“Gammie? That you?”

“Rocket?” she asks, and he rounds the corner from the adjacent corridor in front of her. Drax and Mantis are with him, and Gamora lets out a relieved, shaking cry.

“Oh, shit,” Rocket says, his eyes growing wide as he takes in the sight of her. “What happened to you?”

“No time to explain,” she says, her cheeks growing hot. Maybe there would never be time to explain.... “C’mon, we have to find Peter before....” She takes off running ahead of the others, and they race after her.

“Before what?” Drax asks.

Gamora’s just about to repeat that she ‘can’t’ explain, but then....

She hears him. 

“No. No, no no,” he moans, far up ahead the corridor, to the right.

“Peter!” she screams, taking off before the others can stop her.

Three more robots appear, dropping down from the ceiling. Gamora uses her new tendril-whip to fight one off, and Drax lets out a roar of laughter as he dives at another one. Gamora hears Rocket patiently walk Mantis through a shooting lesson behind her, and he cheers when she hits her mark.

Gamora whips the robot attacking her into pieces, dodging its tendrils, and she races down the hall, laser focused on Peter’s room up ahead.

“No.... Told you, I don’t wanna....”

“I don’t either,” Gamora hears a woman say, “but you see this blinking light? I’ll die if we don’t.” 

Gamora throws herself forward, racing down the hallway. 

“Look, let’s just get this over with, ok honey? If you won’t get hard, I can make you get hard,” the woman says.

Gamora knows that she’s on a dangerous ship, and Peter still has the bomb in his neck.... but did the woman with him seriously just call him ‘Honey?’

Gamora runs even faster.

“But I won’t get hard!” Peter shouts. “You can’t make me! Only my girlfriend can!”

Gamora slides to a halt in front of Peter’s door, holding the tendril up to the panel. The tendril waves around a bit before pressing the panel and the entire door-wall slides up into the ceiling.

Gamora stands there, panting, as the wall reveals Peter being held down on a cot similar to the one in their room, by a naked, seven foot tall humanoid orange woman with three eyes. She straddling his hips holding his arms down as he struggles, grinding against him.

“Get. Away. From him,” Gamora growls, stepping into the room.

“Gamora!” Peter cries, his face lighting up at the sight of her. 

The woman takes one glance at Gamora and jumps off Peter.

“I was only doing this to stay alive!” the orange woman insisted. “Honest!”

“Eight minutes,” a disembodied voice rings out through the room.

“Rocket!” Gamora calls out behind her as she pulls Peter up off the cot.

“I’m comin’! Hold yer horses!”

Gamora glares back at the naked orange woman, who’s inching closer to the door, and sneers at her, “You stay right there.” 

“But.... But I’ll....” 

“Right. There.” Gamora repeats, and grabs up the pants she’d left on the floor. She quickly helps Peter pull on the enlarged pair of pants.

Afterward, they embrace, desperately, like it’s been years since they last saw each other.

Rocket enters the room, and they break apart as he gasps in awe. “Woah. The fuck is up with this place?”

“Mantis! Drax! Keep a lookout. Destroy any robots that come in here,” Gamora instructs. “Rocket, Peter has a bomb in the back of his head. I need you to disarm it, or he’ll die in....”

“Seven minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rocket says.

“What about me?” the orange woman wails.

“You’re gonna stay right there,” Gamora snaps at her, then picks up the woman’s shirt and tosses it at her.

To his credit, Rocket wastes no time in jumping up on the cot as Peter lowers himself in front of it, wincing as Rocket examines it.

“Gonna need somethin’ to pry it out,” Rocket says, and Gamora swaps the robot tendril with his massive gun.

Gamora instantly trains it on the woman, who curls up in the corner, crying as Rocket fiddles with the device in the back of Peter’s head.

“Wonder why you didn’t get one, Gammie,” Rocket muses as Drax laughs out in the hallway, calling out directions to Mantis as they fight more oncoming robots.

“I’m not too concerned with that,” she admits, sweat dripping down her face as she holds out her free hand and Peter grabs onto it.

“If this is gonna be it for me,” Peter says, his voice shaking.

“No! Don’t you start,” Gamora mutters, glancing away from the orange woman toward Peter. 

“If this is it....” Peter continues, his face twisted in pain as he squeezes her hand. “I’m glad I got to.... be with you before I went out. Not the way I’d plan it, obviously, but....”

“Unbelievable,” Rocket mutters, fiddling with the tendril. 

“Rocket....” Gamora calls out, nearly shaking with terror as she grips onto Peter’s hand. 

“Relax, ‘m not gonna just sit here ‘n let Quill explode all over me,” Rocket says, much more at ease than Gamora. “Jus’ a little more to the right.... Aaaand done!”

A small, round, bloodied metallic disc goes clattering to the floor beside Gamora’s foot. 

“Oh, thank you,” Peter groans. “Thank you so much, buddy.”

“All in a day’s work,” Rocket says. “A really fucked up day’s work.”

“Thank you, Rocket.” Gamora wants nothing more than to embrace Peter, but she forces herself to keep her gaze on the orange woman, who stands up.

“Can he get mine out, too?” she asks, wiping away her tears.

“Only if you sit back down,” Rocket says, covering his face at her naked lower half.

Gamora keeps her blaster trained on the woman.

“Three minutes.”

“He gets that out of you, you leave,” Gamora orders. “And you never, ever touch Peter again. Or I will hunt you down and rip open your skull myself.”

She nods vigorously.

“Oh, god,” Peter groans, still sitting with his back against the cot, and Gamora glances over at him, then lowers her gaze to his covered erection.

He shrugs, then winces as he rubs the back of his head. “Told you, you’re the only woman who can get me hard.” 

“We are never,” Rocket mutters, “talkin’ about this.” 

As he sets about dislodging the orange woman’s bomb implant, Gamora tosses Rocket’s blaster to Mantis out in the hall. She and Drax continue to fight the growing group of robots, as Gamora rips off the extra pieces of the orange woman’s pants to press them against the back of Peter’s head, to stem the blood flow.

She tosses another scrap of fabric at the orange woman once Rocket finishes.

Right after he does, Gamora picks up both of the implants, races out into the hall, and shoves her way past Mantis and Drax, yelling at them to get in the room.

They race inside as Gamora tosses the implants down the hall, toward the oncoming horde of robots.

BOOM 

The bombs explode, incinerating the robots while managing not to blow a hole in the ship. 

Gamora rips off another tendril as she yells for the others to come out into the hall.

She peels off another few more tendrils and hands them out to the others. As the orange woman races off down the hall, away from the fire, Gamora asks Rocket where the Benatar is.

“It’s on the Quadrant,” Rocket explains. “That’s why it took us so long to come look for you. We left when we saw both of you getting doped up and dragged away. Found all your stuff in a storage area, so don’t worry about your sword and your little music box. We called for reenforcements, so Groot’s with Kraglin now, with a couple of his Ravager buddies and their ships. They got this horror show surrounded. Only thing for those little green monsters to do is surrender.”

“What about the other prisoners?” Mantis asks, cradling the gun. Rocket snaps his tiny fingers and she gives it back to him, taking a tendril from Gamora.

She walks forward toward the smoldering wreckage in the hallway, filled with robot parts.

Then, Gamora stops. She turns to look back at the others, and she smiles. 

“Let’s free them all,” she says, brandishing her tendril whip, and then she begins to race down the hall.

 

Back on the Quadrant, in the Captain’s quarters, Peter touches the back of his head as he sits upright against the headboard, his lower body covered by the furs. His wound has been cleaned and covered with medical foam. His new skin’s already healing, but slowly.

“Don’t scratch it,” Gamora tells him gently as she enters the room, closing the door behind her and joining him on their bed. “And you’re supposed to be resting.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, taking her hand in his when she swings her leg over the side of the bed and slips under the covers next to him. “Got too much runnin’ around in my head.” 

“We’ve.... Been through a lot,” Gamora agrees, and Peter lets out a small snort.

The past few hours are a blur to Gamora. With Stakar and his crew’s help, along with Kraglin, the Guardians let out all the prisoners and split them up into various groups to be returned safely back to their home planets. The Guardians rounded up the Tu'Vgane and kept them imprisoned in a holding cell on the Quadrant. With all their robots disarmed, the fragile mad scientists were utterly helpless. They were headed back to Xandar, where they would be transported to the Nova Corps so they could deal with them.

Gamora hadn’t seen the orange woman among the groups of survivors. Perhaps she managed to flee on her own. Maybe she kept a low profile. In the end, Gamora didn’t mind it if she’d never see the orange woman again. Rocket had saved her, Gamora had spared her. Gamora had no doubt the woman would stay far away from Peter.

‘She better,’ Gamora thinks as she snuggles up against Peter side. 

“I still don’t know why they put us together,” Peter says, frowning. Gamora looks up at him and he lets out a dry chuckle. “I mean, don’t get me wrong…. The circumstances were awful, but that? Was unquestionably the best sex of my life.”

“Not because it saved your life?” Gamora asks, half teasing. 

“No,” he says, his frown evening out to an earnest expression. “It was.... Incredible. I only wish we could’a done that here.”

“We can,” Gamora says, but neither of them move from their spots. They’re both content now to just be with each other, alive, holding hands as they cuddle in their bed.

“D’you think they....never mind,” Peter says, and Gamora reaches up to touch his face gently. 

He looks back at her, reading the encouraging look on her face. “Do you think you might get pregnant?” he whispers. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “That was their goal, so it’s possible they removed a very specific modification of mine.” She’s had it since she became ‘of age.’ Thanos didn’t want any of his ‘children’ to be…. Distracted with children of their own. But Gamora always had the feeling that one day, she would remove the modification.

“If it turns out you are.... Y’know, pregnant,” Peter says slowly. “What are you gonna do?” 

Gamora thinks about that for a long time.

She’s not thrilled with the possibility that her modification has been removed without her consent. And like Peter, she wishes their first time being intimate had occurred under far more romantic circumstances.

But she realizes that the important thing is that Peter is still alive. And she knows he will stick by her side no matter what happens next.

“I’ll talk about it with you,” she tells Peter, leaning up to kiss him on the lips. He sinks into it, moaning softly.

When they separate, she says, “I’m glad that I was with you. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you. I trust you, Peter. And I love you. More than anyone in the galaxy.”

He sighs against her lips. “I love you, too.” 

Gamora closes the distance between their lips.


End file.
